


Bridges

by AlexiHollis



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, a bit more than canon-typical violence, kind of, more like can-bend-but-is-bad-at-it-because-reasons, non-bending zuko, not actual child death but referenced and described in first chapter, reformed zuko before the series AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2020-10-25 03:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiHollis/pseuds/AlexiHollis
Summary: During his hunt for the Avatar, Zuko discovers things that completely change his worldviewOROzai's banishment leads to his son becoming a traitor to his nation





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so as mentioned there is child death in this chapter. The actual death is not described, but the remains of children are seen and referenced. If this makes you uncomfortable but you still wish to read, I have put ** before the passage and at the end to signal when you can start reading. SPOILER ALERT: if you do not wish to read that portion, this passage is to show Zuko seeing the devastation of the Fire Nation soldiers and being confronted with the reality that what he was told does not match what happened. I felt that, in order to do this type of story with Zuko, it needed to be a really confronting image that would disturb him.

For a thirteen year old, three months equaled close to an eternity.

For an eternity, Zuko wandered the world, not alone, but dishonored. Banished. _Scarred_ by his own element. And for a thirteen year old _prince_?

He needed to find the Avatar, no matter how impossible it may seem. He needed to find the Avatar, capture him, and drag him back to the palace; he would prove himself to his father and everything would be back the way it was (ignoring how difficult life had become back then, how dull and painful and…scary).

The first place to look obviously resided in the abandoned temples of the Air Nomads. Perhaps he had lived amongst their ruins for all these years, counting on their strategic positioning to keep him safe. Those who searched for him before had not thought to look in any of the Temples, but the Southern Air Temple specifically had not been returned to since Sozin’s Comet.

So for an eternity, Zuko directed his ship to the Southern Air Temple and, when they finally reached it, made the journey alone.

“Calm yourself, Zuko! An old man can only walk so fast.”

…mostly, alone.

Always no less than five paces behind the teen, Uncle Iroh slowly made his way up the path. Zuko felt the anger rising inside him, the burning that all firebenders felt. Before his hands began to flicker, however, as they used to, as was _common_ and _expected _of teens, a tingling wave that turned his stomach and chilled him to the core doused the flames. And Zuko felt even angrier and pent up and with no way to release the energy, so he began walking once again, elongating his strides to walk even faster than before.

The cold air did not necessarily _hurt _against the shiny new skin that now surrounded his eye, but it did feel distinctly _uncomfortable_. Like a scratchy washcloth cleansing chafed skin; like the bandages that Uncle religiously wrapped around his head for the weeks following the doomed duel.

He walked faster, almost running up the winding mountain path, occasionally tripping over roots and sometimes having to search to find exactly where the path led. It looked as if it hadn’t been kept in years – but, of course, the Avatar wouldn’t bother himself with _upkeep_, especially since he would _want _the place to look deserted.

The path opened onto a courtyard area, in the same disarray as the path. Unwanted plants grew through the stone, giving the temple a truly ruinous appearance. As he walked through, Zuko could just make out a court-like area with a variety of posts and hoops – a training arena, perhaps. The nomads were known for sending their children to train in these temples, Zuko recalled from his past history lessons, turning them into child soldiers at as young as three or four, barely any parental guidance or familial structure. He continued past the training arena.

He came to an unstable looking bridge and here, he could go one of two ways. To continue past the bridge, there was a structure that would reinforce all he believed true about the airbenders: their bloodthirsty nature and disregard for human life for one should not have earthly attachments, because that would be how he would interpret the skeleton of a man sitting in a meditative position with his back against a wall surrounded by the remains of dozens of Fire Nation soldiers. Zuko would curse the man against the wall and turn heel, determining that the Avatar would not have left that many bodies unattended – for the smell if not for basic human decency. He would have passed his uncle, leaning against the tree at the joint where the path met the courtyard and cursing the virility of teenagers, and snapped angrily at him to stop being lazy and return to the ship, then once again left his uncle in favor of sprinting down the mountain, himself cursing the wasted time.

Zuko crossed the bridge. Once on the other side, Zuko looked around and determined himself to be in the residential area of the temple, based on the stable area off to the side large enough to fit the legendarily vicious flying bison the Air Warriors flew into battle and the larger buildings with a heightened frequency in windows. He turned to the stables – the Avatar would have to have one, of course, and there did not seem to be anywhere else to house a beast that size.

**He pushed the large stable door open, grunting at the force required and grimacing at the awful sound it made. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and he began coughing at the stale nature of the air, to see…

Children.

Here, it is important to remember Zuko’s age of only thirteen years. In order to call _anyone_ a child, they must be substantially smaller than himself. And they were.

Strewn along the floor, on top of one another, across the entirety of the large space were the charred bones of _children._ Along the walls were larger skeletons in a similar state, but chains rusted against what used to be their wrists, their ankles, their necks. And not a single Fire Nation soldier amongst the carnage.

Perhaps they had been moved, taken by the survivors out of the room, but Zuko knew in his heart that could not be the case. An army willing to sacrifice sixteen year old recruits en masse did not care to bring home the dead – it was too costly and too dangerous, at least that was what father told Zuko back when Zuko cared to know those sorts of things. Now, of course, there were Fire Nation casualties, for even a pacifist people dedicated to non-violence and forgiveness will not stand idly at the slaughtering of children, but Zuko never saw these. No, Zuko closed the door on the tomb and, remembering the teachings of his mother when they went to pay respects to their ancestors, knelt at the closed door in an attempt to rectify their rest’s disturbance. His mind swirled in confusion and he silently begged the spirits to give him understanding, but they met him silently.**

As he walked back down the path, feeling like an untethered sail during a horrific storm, he heard the voices of his old tutors: of course the _children_ were saved, they were _assimilated into our culture_, airbending simply _could not compete_ against firebending so no airbenders passed on the trait, the soldiers only killed those who threatened them. But what children were a threat? How could any chained person be a threat? The gnawing of his stomach became sharp pains as his throat became clogged.

Uncle Iroh leaned against the tree, not exactly panting but clearly tired.

“Did you find anything, Zuko?” He asked. Zuko knew what the question was – Uncle Iroh playing along with a fantasy until Zuko realized returning home could never truly be achieved.

“No,” Zuko shook his head, going past Uncle Iroh against the tree and heading back down the path, his steps subdued. “Nothing at all.”

He must not understand. There had to be reasons, Zuko rationalized, reasons too complex to go into during his tutoring sessions. He nodded his head at this thought – Azula _had _been there for most of those lessons, his tutors couldn’t _possibly _be expected to explain nuances of this kind with a _child _in the room.

Back on board the ship, Zuko directed the captain to sail towards an Earth Kingdom port. Mere coincidence made the port one only recently captured by the Fire Nation and, therefore, held a library mostly untouched by the time their ship arrived. They stayed over a full month, much longer than needed to resupply, but not hated by the crew or Uncle Iroh, whose only complaint being that Zuko spent all waking hours in the library.

They finally set sail when the marina owner asked if they wanted a permanent docking spot, but Zuko only gave the captain the vague direction to “sail west.” And _that _marked how the next three years were spent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings for this chapter :) enjoy!

With a ship as small as Zuko’s, there were not many places one could settle down and expect quiet peace. If he stayed in his quarters too long, the bored soldiers, made bold by years of peaceful sailing and a quiet prince, were likely to pull him out and into one inane card game or another. Being on the main deck meant being pulled into some confusing discussion with Uncle Iroh filled with lofty philosophy and serpentine metaphors. Whenever Zuko wanted a calm place to sit and read, then, the only place he could count on was the helm, where not even the boldest, bored-est soldier dared venture without good reason.

“Heading back to the South Pole, huh?”

That is, if Lieutenant Jee wasn’t in a talkative mood.

Lieutenant Jee stared straight ahead at the horizon line while Zuko sat in a chair behind him, trying to focus on the scroll in his hands.

Zuko’s eyes flitted to squint a the captain, “…obviously.” He put down his scroll and joined Jee at the control panels, looking at the navigation charts. “Are we off-track? We’ve got enough supplies to last a good while even if we are, but Dao mentioned wanting to replace some of the piping on the water-” He cut himself off when Jee huffed a sound too close to a laugh. “What?”

“We aren’t off track, Zuko.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed. He had definitely done something wrong over the years if Jee’s placating tone said anything. The captain continued, “We’ve come this way hundreds of times, I could navigate us to Sha-Zin’s Port in my sleep.” Jee looked at Zuko, as if this fact should mean something.

Zuko just shrugged, “It’s the only Fire Nation friendly port in the South Pole.”

“We’ve been sailing the same routes for three years,” Jee said. “How do you expect to find the Avatar if you only ever go where you’ve been?”

Zuko looked away, out onto the ocean. That was the easy answer, he figured, because he didn’t. No one _actually_ expected he find the Avatar, because the Avatar didn’t exist – not anymore, at least. If he tried hard enough, Zuko can almost picture the downfall of the last Avatar, could see him watching as the Fire Nation slaughtered his people and feel the anger burning inside him until he fell into the Avatar State mentioned so often in Zuko’s scrolls. But the last Avatar was a _child_, too few years passed since the death of Avatar Roku and the annihilation of the Air Nomads, and there was a vulnerability in the Avatar State, according to the oldest scriptures Zuko could find. If the Avatar died in this state, the cycle ended, and it was too easy for Zuko to see a Fire Nation soldier killing the Avatar in this state on accident, then hiding the evidence if he did not know the gravity of his action.

There was no Avatar to find; Zuko accepted that as fact. But not even trying? At this point, the only crew left on the ship stayed out of loyalty to Uncle Iroh, the great _Dragon of the West_. So Zuko _tried _to seem focused, made sure the crew saw his scrolls about different bending styles and defenses, even if they never saw him bend. But lately even he felt the charge in the air, the concern of Uncle Iroh as the crew grew ever more restless.

Boredom – the true downfall of any army.

“Was there a point to any of this?” Zuko asked, breaking his silence with a glare.

“Well, I’ve been thinking, since the crew has been bored as all hell…” Zuko’s eyebrow raised. “I know of an old shipwreck on the coast of the pole.” Jee finally said. “It might be fun to go check it out.”

“An…old shipwreck?” Zuko tilted his head.

“From the beginning of the war.”

“Why have you never mentioned this before?!” Zuko exclaimed, grabbing at the charts to pull closer to himself and the captain. “Where is it?!”

“Woah, calm down,” Jee chuckled, pulling the maps away from the teen. “It’s not marked, but I remembered someone from the Southern Raiders talking about it awhile back.” He took out a pencil and looked over the chart until he found the features the Raider mentioned. “It should be about here.”

Zuko’s eyes widened as the excitement continued to bubble inside him. A hundred year old wreck. “And its above ground?”

“Supposedly trapped in ice,” Jee explained. “So. Should I change direction?”

Zuko nodded, fixated on the map even as Jee began turning the ship – to the displeasure of those on the main deck, startled by the sudden change.

Without a word, Zuko gathered his scroll and left the helm. Head in the clouds, he headed towards his quarters, only to run into his uncle at the door.

“Ah, hello, Zuko,” Uncle Iroh smiled, a tea tray in hand. “I was just coming to see you.”

Zuko simply nodded, opening his door and holding it open as his uncle entered. He turned toward his make-shift scroll case, sliding his latest reading material into an empty slot. His uncle already sat at the table and busied himself by setting out the tea as Zuko knelt across from him.

“I see we’ve changed course,” Uncle Iroh poured the tea, first in Zuko’s cup and then his own. “Are we not going to Sha-Zin’s Port? I’m sure they’re expecting their scrolls back soon.”

Zuko shook his head, “We will, there’s just…something I want to check out first.” He lifted his tea cup. Uncle Iroh did not keep talking. After a few minutes of silence, Zuko sighed, “Jee mentioned a shipwreck. From the beginning of the war.”

“Ah,” Uncle Iroh nodded, a glint in his eye. “Might have some clues about the Avatar.”

“…exactly what I was thinking.”

Of course that was why Jee mentioned it, Zuko reminded himself. The though deflated him a bit, his latest readings being about the development of shipbuilding. A particularly intriguing section talked about how Fire Nation shipbuilders began copying the shapes of Water Tribe canoes and ships in an effort to both move faster and better through icy areas, not that it mattered at all. It was an old scroll anyway, probably beyond outdated. Zuko did tend to prefer those scrolls, those that contained less of the poisonous propaganda started by his great-grandfather.

“How are you expecting to investigate it?” Uncle Iroh asked. “You have not practiced your breathing in…a long while, actually.”

Zuko aborted his next sip of tea to stare at his uncle until he realized what the old man meant, “It’s an above ground wreck. Trapped in ice.”

Uncle Iroh nodded _again _and did not say anymore. Zuko despised the way his uncle played him like a tsungi horn, but the teen could not resist filling the silence once again.

“If there’s something you want to say, _say it_.” Zuko hated the way the candles in the room grew. Not much, just slightly, but even the smallest hint of movement caused the quickest beat of his heart, so he stamped down the growing ire, imaging his anger being encased in frozen metal.

“I think you know what I want to say.”

And Zuko did.

_“You cannot capture the Avatar without practicing your basic sets, nephew.”_

_“I never wish to discourage the development of the young mind, but I don’t believe you’ve seen the sun in over a week.”_

_“One does not need that many matchboxes as a souvenir, they’re quite common amongst the nations anyway.”_

_“I can teach you the advanced sets, if you would like.”_

_“More matchboxes, Zuko? What did you do with the rest?”_

_"Zuko, would you warm this tea pot for me?”_

_“Zuko. Light this candle.”_

_“Zuko. Show me a flame.”_

_“Zuko.”_

For once, Uncle Iroh ran out of patience before Zuko did, “This is not healthy, nephew.”

“I’m fine,” Zuko fought for his cool control. “It isn’t as if I’m burning down the ship, _uncle. _If I was out of control, I would’ve burnt down a library by now.”

“It isn’t about control,” Uncle Iroh said, placing his tea cup down in front of him, forcing eye contact. “This is entirely selfish. You are a firebender, but you live-”

“-as if I’ve forgotten who I am,” Zuko finished the statement lazily, breaking the uncomfortable stare down, but returning his gaze to his uncle – a softer gaze this time. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“If you think refusing to fight is maturity, you are mistaken,” Uncle Iroh rebutted. “It is complacency at best.”

There was a knock at the door and, without invitation, a soldier, Oni, burst into the room. Wow, Zuko contemplated, how poorly have I managed this ship exactly?

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Oni gasped, “but a beam of light came from the direction we are headed.”

“Like the Sky Lights?” Zuko asked unaffectedly. They interested him at the start of his voyage, when he didn’t understand the dancing colors, but he knew better now – so should Oni, despite being on the opposite side of the globe.

“Nothing like them,” Oni said. “Much different, like a homing beacon. Jee looked through the telescope and saw a figure jumping down the side of the ship.” Oni shook his head, “No, no, _gliding_, he was airbending.”

Zuko’s heart stopped.

Airbending. There were no airbenders left – none, at all, his people _destroyed _them. He checked every last record he could find. The only airbender that could exist would have had to time-travel into the future…or have a soul built to elongate one’s lifetime.

Like the Avatar.

Zuko’s mind went blank as Uncle Iroh all but whispered, “The Avatar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment down below!!


	3. Chapter 3

The ship headed towards the light and the pit of dread that formed at Oni’s words grew deeper the closer they got to the wreck. An electricity filled the ship as soldiers whispered on the deck, Zuko having situated himself at the telescope at the bow of the ship. Uncle Iroh sat at his table. Drinking tea, of course. Once the wreck came into view, Zuko felt calmer – it appeared deserted; the trip took too long, allowing the person, the _Avatar_, enough time to leave.

Then they sailed past it.

“What?” Zuko muttered as the ship didn’t even slow at the wreck. He turned to the closest soldier, Kai, “Why didn’t we stop?”

“They were already leaving when we saw the light,” Kai said, then pointed in the direction they now headed. “We’re going to the village that we saw them running to.”

“A village.” Dread returned with a vengeance.

Kai nodded, before his attention shifted away from the distraught prince, staring out at the arctic scenery before him. As the ship cut through the water, he could begin to make out the snow walls of their destination.

“We are headed to a village,” Zuko held back a startled jump as Uncle Iroh appeared at his left. “There might be warriors there – would make a logical hiding place for the Avatar.”

“The Southern Water Tribes have been engaged in naval battle with the Fire Nation for over half a decade now, Uncle,” Zuko muttered. “There will be no one there, except women and children.”

“An easy victory, then.” Zuko could feel his uncle staring at him. He kept his eyes averted. “I must say, I am excited to see the palace grounds again. Do you remember the turtle-duck pond? Towards the south of the gardens?”

Zuko’s grip subconsciously tightened around the ship’s railing. Droplets began to fall onto the floor deck before he yanked his hands away from the newly thawed metal.

“Azula’s probably drowned them all by now,” Zuko muttered.

Uncle Iroh laughed, “She was always such a spit-fire, that one.”

Zuko felt nauseous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment below lovelies :)


	4. Chapter 4

A child. An _airbender _child. An airbender child with a _flying bison_?!

Zuko sat on his bed and stared at the wall of scrolls in front of them, hoping they would fly off the walls to explain the questions left by the last four hours of his life. Nothing made sense anymore.

The bison died by the sides of their benders. Anyone with any ties to the Air Nomads died as well, typically in horrific disasters, such as the supposed volcanic eruptions that wiped out all of the fire nation towns on the southern coast.

And the kid, wearing the traditional clothing of the Air Nomads, as if he didn’t need to hide his identity at all. As if he didn’t even know the dangers associated with not hiding it.

There was also the slight problem of the Avatar getting away with the two Water Tribe teenagers, not even getting close to being captured, because Zuko didn’t think to bring his swords with him into the village.

Oh, and the fact that he almost blatantly refused to bend in front of his entire crew. His entire, very bored, very much ready to go home, crew and his uncle with similar feelings.

Zuko hoped that, for once, no one would bother him if he tried to stay in his room for the rest of the night, Jee already given orders to sail after the bison.

The thought _had _crossed his mind to ignore this development. Head to Sha-Zin’s Port, return the scrolls he borrowed, get new ones, then head to an Earth Kingdom port, but he couldn’t. How could he explain that to his crew, to his uncle? But, even worse, was the fact that there was now undeniable proof.

Before, it could be explained as a mistake, the soldier thought he saw the Avatar, but not really. Now…now there was a whole ship of people, all Fire Nation, all _loyally _Fire Nation, who _knew:_

The Avatar was alive.

Including the Dragon of the West himself, Uncle Iroh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment below!! :)))


	5. Chapter 5

Because the universe hated him, obviously, he had to deal with Admiral Zhao on top of everything else.

“You haven’t grown much these past three years, have you?” The admiral smirked over a cup of tea. “I cannot imagine the sea life to be good for the development of a young firebender such as yourself.”

And _Zuko _hated _him._

At the mention of bending, Zuko could feel his crew stiffen. The Avatar’s escape had been a few days prior and the question of Zuko’s bending hadn’t been breached, not once. But the curiosity clearly ate at his crew members. Uncle Iroh remained the confusing element beyond Zuko’s parsing ability.

“It’s been just fine,” Zuko said, voice steady and calm as he smothered the crackling he felt inside himself. He attempted a thin smile.

“On the contrary,” Uncle Iroh piped up, “The fresh air seems to have done wonders for his complexion.” Zuko wanted to slam his head into the table – his _complexion?_ “And he is not that much shorter than his father.”

“Ah, yes, your father,” Admiral Zhao said, clearly annoyed at the deflected bait. “The one who banished you.”

“I do not know of another man who has the power to banish people.” Zuko picked up his tea as Admiral Zhao’s clinked unpleasantly against his tea plate.

“Have you made any in-roads towards finding the Avatar?” Admiral Zhao asked, grasping. “His capture is the only way to restore your honor, if I properly remember?”

Zuko silently begged his crew to remain stoic. Not a peep was heard, though the palpable tension did not seem much better.

“A few clues here and there,” Zuko shrugged.

“Yes, I suppose it’s hard to chase a ghost,” Admiral Zhao’s eyes narrowed at Zuko.

There was a chuckle from one of Zuko’s crew.

When they left the tent, Zuko hated the suspicious glint in Zhao’s eyes, but hated, even more, the light he watched follow his sailing ship that night.

Agni dammit, he thought as the dawn came and he could make out the hazy image of a ship on the horizon in the same place he saw the light, I’m going to have to capture the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment below!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I have a habit of posting things on this site not thinking they're going to do well and then...they do?? SO UM SORRY FOR THE LONG UPDATE TIME. Because I very suddenly realized that I was going to have to actually write a good fic and I haven't seen ATLA in years so I also needed to refresh myself on WTF happened in the first season to figure out what things were going to be different etc. etc.   
ANYWAYYYY, enjoy this update!

There were times during Zuko’s life where he wished his father actually had sent him away to be adopted by some random Earth bending family. Living a peasant’s life, carving a life ruled by the harvest, would certainly not be _terrible_.

As his ship sailed after the flying bison, a burning village behind him and Uncle’s ever confusing proverbs in his ear, Zuko couldn’t help but think that Lee would be a nice name.

Zuko collapsed in one of the chairs in the helm with a barely audible groan, a horrible pulsing feeling behind his eyes signaling an on-coming headache. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Now, now, none of that,” Jee thumped him on the shoulder. Zuko opened his eyes just enough to see the lieutenant sit across from him, already looking at the maps. “You almost had him that time.”

Almost, being the operative word. And a destroyed village being the result.

Zuko tried hard not to think about the children he saw running away from the flames or those near his age trying valiantly to put them out or all the rest trying to save what little they could.

“I’m going to go lie down,” Zuko muttered. He couldn’t get those images out of his head. The more he tried, the more vividly they appeared.

“Zuko!” Jee called as he went to leave the helm. The teenager stopped, turning to see the captain now standing. He gestured at the maps, “Come on, you love mapping our course. And we’ve got enough information to try and calculate the bison’s speed, now.”

Zuko shook his head, “I’m tired. You’ll be able to do it much faster without me, anyway.”

“That isn’t the point,” Jee said, his arms falling to his sides. He looked at Zuko intently, as if the Zuko were a particularly confusing puzzle. “I don’t understand – you’re so close, yet…”

“Yet _what, _Lieutenant?” Zuko asked.

Jee shook his head. “Never mind. Go get some rest.” He began rolling up the maps, “We’ll plot our course tomorrow morning when you feel better.”

Zuko didn’t say anything else, just quickly left the helm. He needed to get away – from his excited crew, from his strange Uncle, from Jee’s bizarre insistence on Zuko’s “help” (despite three years of Jee’s tutelage, Zuko knew he still lacked the bone-deep understanding of the ocean only gained by Jee’s years of experience). But when he closed his cabin door behind him, it did not feel nearly as cathartic as usual.

_Usually_, slamming his cabin door felt like locking out the world. It felt like being in a realm all of his own, with only himself and his scrolls. Of course, the crew could be counted on to drag him out if he stayed too long, but it was still _his. _If he demanded, they would stay out – he just never demanded (unlike his room back in the palace with a tiny passageway that connected to all the other rooms of the Royal family; meant to be used in emergency and abused by Azula constantly).

This time, however, it felt like inviting the rest of the world – the one that existed beyond the bounds of the ship – into his head. Panicked screams and people in crisis drowned out the steady hum of the ship and the rhythmic pounding of water. Zuko had his back against the metal door, almost unaware as he slid down to sit with his knees to his chest, yet he felt as if he were burning alive. Like he was sure at least _one _villager had been – and wasn’t that a stomach-turning thought? When he closed his eyes, he saw the way the flames overtook the village, how quickly.

How _viciously_.

Because fire didn’t care. It only wanted to burn and consume, turning to all in its path to ash and charred remains.

Not like water. Housing an assortment of animals around the world and sustaining life in the rest. Water healed and encouraged life, where fire maimed and killed.

Not like air. A place for majestic creatures to soar, even those that supposedly belonged to fire, like the mighty dragons – _destroyed _by fire.

Not like earth. From which grain and life first sprung, only to be devastated by greedy flames.

It made sense, to Zuko at least, that the nation that waged such a bloody, useless war bared the curse to bend such a destructive and useless element.

But no, not _the _nation, _his _nation. His nation whose curse he also bore, despite his desperate attempts to ignore and forget, lost in his scrolls, accumulating knowledge as useless to him as fire to the world.

There was a knock on the door.

“Zuko?” Uncle Iroh called through the door; Zuko would have said he sounded worried, but that was how the old man sounded any time he addressed his nephew.

Zuko didn’t respond, but hastily stood, moving away from the door and instead to his bed. As the door opened, he tried to pretend as if he had just awoken.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Uncle Iroh said, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I brought you some food. You missed dinner.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Zuko prided himself on the control of his voice. Though quiet, it didn’t shake.

Uncle Iroh set up the table and Zuko quickly began to eat, but he didn’t leave, simply watched as Zuko ate (and also sipped tea, but this was Uncle Iroh, and Zuko did not think he had ever actually seen the man _not _drinking tea).

“Lieutenant Jee said that you were not feeling well,” Uncle Iroh said.

Zuko narrowed his eyes just slightly. “It is none of Lieutenant Jee’s business how I am feeling. Either way, I am simply tired from the long day.”

“Ah, yes,” Uncle Iroh nodded, looking down at his tea, then saying, “It must have been exhausting indeed – running after the Avatar with only a pair of broadswords.”

Zuko scoffed as he stacked his dishes onto the tray, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you weren’t even there.”

Uncle Iroh finished his tea, still watching.

Then: “You look, nephew, but you do not see.”

With that, Uncle Iroh took up the tray and left the room. As the door shut, Zuko noticed that, on the table, sat a Pai Sho piece – the white lotus that Uncle Iroh always seemed to carry.

He remembered his father, years ago (back when Zuko had a mother and loved his father and thought his nation just, strong _good), _saying that Uncle Iroh said a lot of pretty words in confusing ways to give the airs of wisdom, a clever tactic used to deceive soldiers and, though unsaid by Ozai, Fire Lords. His father told Zuko to not be fooled, that his uncle was truly an ordinary man. After the death of his mother and the ascension of Ozai, Zuko took solace in his uncle’s words and decided that his father was simply jealous at the time, because who could fake the wisdom that clung to Uncle Iroh like water.

Uncle Iroh, one of, if not _the, _greatest General in Fire Nation history. A firebending master rivalled only by the Sages themselves. The man who ended the dragons.

Holding the game piece in his hand, Zuko decided that, maybe this one time, Ozai was right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko meets Katara!

When Uncle Iroh explained to Zuko that he lost his white lotus Pai Sho piece, Zuko thought it was a weird joke or proverb. Maybe a clever distraction from whatever he _actually _needed at the marketplace. The further the day dragged on, however, and the more Uncle Iroh simply moved about the vendors, the more Zuko began to believe the old man actually _forgot _giving Zuko the piece. At that point, Zuko didn’t know what to say, simply leaving his _bizarre _Uncle to his search and moving to scroll traders.

Uncle Iroh returned with an assortment of unnecessary goods, leaving Zuko further puzzled but reluctant to question in case the answers led down a baboon-rabbit hole of nonsense. As they neared the decision to leave the market, Zuko heard a commotion, a group of people yelling about a stolen scroll, a monk-boy, a girl, and a boy with a weird haircut.

Not just any people, though. Pirates. Of all the people to steal from, those kids chose _pirates. _The years on the sea gave Zuko a healthy respect, fear, and overall distaste for people whose lives led them to piracy, having been chased plenty and, the when they did not successfully outmaneuver, boarded a handful of times. These cautions made Zuko hesitate.

Then again…

Though Zuko found no evidence to suggest that Zhao followed his ship after he ran the blockade (the question of why the Avatar would _willingly _enter Fire Nation territory completely eluding him), the boy did not seem to understand his previous advantage of being considered dead. By now, it would not surprise Zuko if the whole of the Fire Nation knew of his survival.

And the Avatar could _not _fall into the hands of one loyal to the Fire Lord.

He agreed to the partnership. Uncle Iroh seemed...please with his purchases. Zuko didn’t know how to feel about his Uncle’s steady (though perhaps not unexpected) descent into madness. As their search dragged on into the night, Zuko allowed most of the crew to return to their bunks (sending his uncle to bed as soon as possible), keeping a skeleton watch crew awake to assist, Jee being one of that crew.

“What exactly did they steal?” Jee asked, after a long silence had fallen over them.

“A water bending scroll,” Zuko responded, not paying much attention as he scanned the river bank. “That’s why we aren’t searching the woods. They’ll likely be on the water.”

Jee made a sound of surprise and confusion that caught Zuko’s attention and caused the older man to explain, “Water bending would be the next stage for an Avatar born into the Air Nation. Do you think this could mean…?”

Zuko shook his head, “They said the girl stole it. She’s a water bender from the Southern Water Tribe; considering how hard the Southern Raiders hit them a few years back, I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t anyone left to properly train her. I read that the leader of the Raiders claimed that he wiped out all the Southern water benders.”

“Okay, first of all, you read too much,” Jee said. “Secondly, she’s traveling with _the Avatar_. With him around, she shouldn’t need a scroll at all.”

The thought of the Avatar only being a master of one element made Zuko queasy, even if the boy couldn’t be older than twelve. Before he could respond, he caught a strange movement of water out of the corner of his eye. And there was the girl, a bit ways down river.

They pulled their boats against the shore, before she could see them. When the pirates and crew attempted to follow, Zuko shook his head.

“I’ll go,” he said. “Wait here.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to outnumber her?” One of the pirates asked.

Zuko bit his tongue, holding back a curse at the pirate. His own crew wouldn’t judge his call at this time (though, if he made a bad one, bring it up later for weeks on end). He floundered for a n excuse to talk to the girl. Alone.

“If we outnumber her, she could scream and warn the others,” Zuko said, tense as he watched their reaction. He relaxed slightly as the excuse went over well enough, then began his “ambush” (when this inevitably went “wrong,” he hoped his crew would ignore his lack of broadswords, still hanging on his cabin wall).

He could hear her frustration before he saw the water tribe girl, angry and frazzled as she tried to exactly copy the moves she saw illustrated in the scroll laid out by her feet. Before he could stop himself-

“You need to relax,” Zuko called out as the girl stomped one of her feet, somewhat hidden amongst the trees. 

The girl straightened her back, abruptly turning to him. “_Excuse _me?!” When she saw him, she gasped, then took a step back, placing one foot into the water. “Zuko.”

Zuko waved one hand, in a half-wave. “Hey.” She widened her stance and raised her arms, forcing Zuko off his tree and his own arms raised, but in surrender. “Woah, hey, I’m not here to fight.”

“Oh, really?” Her sarcasm sliced. “You’re obsessed with capturing Aang, then, suddenly, you don’t want to fight?”

“I never want to fight,” Zuko muttered, then raised his voice again for her to hear. “I have something for you, but it’s in my pocket, okay?”

“So?”

“So, I need to move one of my arms,” Zuko said. “Please don’t drown me.”

Trained or not, the girl proved herself as a powerful and talented bender. Her lack of formal training made her more dangerous rather. She didn’t say anything, but her gaze moved to his pocket. He quickly put one hand in his pocket and dug out his prize.

Zuko held out a rather simple necklace, but one that clearly meant a lot to the girl, considering the sacred symbol of the water benders carved into the ivory pendant. “This belongs to you.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “It…it was my mother’s.”

_Was_. Zuko tried to ignore the tense.

Her eyes narrowed again. “What do you want for it?”

“I don’t have much time to explain,” Zuko said, “but you really need to make your time spent in Fire Nation territory brief. A man named Commander Zhao is looking for the Avatar. He has the resources of basically the entire Fire Navy behind him. If he catches up to you, you _will _lose. Especially if the Avatar has only mastered one element.”

“He’s a quick study,” the girl interjected on her friend’s behalf, but that simply caused Zuko’s heart to sink further. It seemed the Avatar’s youth only served to further hinder him.

“You need to leave. Quickly.” Zuko tried his best to gently toss the necklace to the girl, the jewelry landing safely on the sand in front of her feet.

“I don’t understand,” the girl said, but Zuko had already turned to head back to his ship.

“You aren’t safe here,” Zuko said. “What more is there to understand?!”

“Why aren’t you demanding to know where Aang is?” The girl asked. “If you don’t care, why did you burn down Kyoshi? Why are you still following us?”

“None of that matters, okay?” Zuko felt a headache coming on at the girl’s demands. “You need to _leave_.”

At that, he took off back to the pirates and crew.

The Avatar would be headed to the North pole to find a master water bender. So, for now, Zuko would lead his crew south, hopefully leading Zhao with them.

Hopefully.

Unfortunately, Zuko ran out of hope years ago.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this was a hard chapter to write

Begrudgingly, Zuko understood the whole pirate incident. Picking up a few waterbending tricks on the way to finding a master couldn’t be a bad thing. Lots of benders taught themselves a few things from scrolls or whatnot, especially if they did not wish to use their bending martially. So Zuko led the pirates and his crew south for a few days until it was clear they had “lost” the trail. In the next navigational meeting, Zuko suggested heading towards the North Pole, the last haven of the waterbenders, and Lieutenant Jee smiled, then added that they should make plenty of port stops, keeping an ear to the ground for news of sightings. It didn’t take long before they were back on the trail. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Zhao was on the trail as well. Beyond that, however, the pirate fiasco was easily moved past and labeled the type of mischief expected for a trio of children under intense stress.

The storm tested Zuko’s feelings of understanding. He refused to sail through the storm, fearing the safety of his crew and ship, horrified at the notion of the Avatar flying through that weather. Luckily, they survived and Zuko hoped the experience scared them enough to be more cautious. He didn’t dawdle on the potential consequences of being out in that sort of storm.

Consequences like sickness and a desperate child, leading to Zuko now standing in a Fire Nation prison under the watch of now Admiral Zhao and the Yuyan Archers (proving that Zuko’s attempt at a diversion had failed) wearing a blue theatre mask while the Avatar hollered at half-frozen frogs to stop unfreezing because his friends…needed to…suck on them? Zuko ignored the child’s ramblings, trying his best to urge him through the prison to safety.

In the back of his mind, Zuko wondered if his own actions gave the boy a sense of invincibility, since he clearly did not seem to understand the level of threat Zhao truly posed to him. The amount of risks the kid took in the fight quickly lead Zuko to the conclusion of _yes, yes it had_. Of course, the whole incident landed with _Zuko_ lying unconscious on the forest floor and the Avatar still talking above him about the four nations, peace, and friendship.

“Do you think we could have been friends?” He heard the Avatar say as he came back to the world.

“No,” Zuko said bluntly, thinking of the stark contrasts between a spoiled prince and a nomadic monk (Zuko could barely stand the _idea_ of himself at twelve, he did not know how anyone put up with him at that age).

The Avatar’s face fell, as if he actually hoped for a different answer. The kid curled in tighter on himself and Zuko’s stomach tightened as well as the kid let out a defeated, “Oh.”

“I’m not really a…people person,” Zuko quickly tried to correct (God, he was just a _kid_). “I never made friends easily.”

The Avatar’s next “Oh!” sounded bright and cheerful, the classic voice Zuko expected of the child that allowed the teen to relax as he laid on the forest floor with a throbbing headache from being knocked out by an arrow of all things. He remembered when, once upon a time, he looked up to the Yuyan archers, wanted to join their ranks. His father quickly corrected his dreams, but that only meant Zuko silently wished instead of vocally.

This experience squished those dreams quite thoroughly. If he never had to see another archer again, it would still be too soon.

The Avatar kept chattering, “Well, then, I’m sure we would’ve been great friends! Maybe you would have even taught me how to sword fight!”

“Yeah,” Zuko just wanted to sleep, his eyes falling shut. “Maybe.” He felt…so woozy, all of a sudden.

“Zuko?” The Avatar sounded suddenly panicked and Zuko made to stand, swords in hand, but his body felt as heavy as a komodo rhino. “Zuko!”

The kid _was _the Avatar. He could take care of whatever it is for now.

Zuko just needed a quick nap.

When he awoke from his nap, he found himself on the main deck of his ship, moments before dawn which gave him just enough time to hurry down to his cabin and make it appear like he never left. He couldn’t remember much past that short conversation with the Avatar, but he seemed perfectly fine past a slight rope burn on his wrists. With the door closed securely and Zuko quickly changed into his night clothes, Zuko sighed, safe and relieved to put that night, Yuyan archers, and Zhao behind him.

It didn’t surprise him when wanted posters for a vigilante nicknamed the Blue Spirit appeared; they were, however, unfortunately detailed. Zuko kicked himself for not thinking that the archers, highly knowledgeable in weaponry and martial arts of all kinds, would recognize the unique style of a swordsman both trained and bearing weapons by Piandao. Wearing a mask gifted to him by his mother also showed as an unfortunate choice, as the wanted poster noted that the person must be wealthy to purchase such a high quality theatre mask. Fortunately, only three people in the world could connect those dots back to Zuko: his mother, Uncle Iroh, and Piandao, himself. As long as his mother did not spontaneously appear and Piandao remain as disinterested in politics as he always seemed, Zuko would be fine (he didn’t worry about Uncle Iroh, because it was _Uncle Iroh_).

So he went along his life. He kept a slightly further watch from the Avatar, confident that the boy now understood the threat and tried to return to his scrolls and navigational charts. A few days past, then a week, and everything seemed _fine._ The closer they got to the North Pole, the better Zuko felt. He didn’t _love _hearing the news about Zhao attacking Jeung-Jeung while the Avatar was in his camp (which was…weird, because the Avatar hadn’t even mastered Water yet, and Zuko remembered hearing about the man, specifically as a stickler to spirituality and the rules of the spirits). However, the Avatar escaped, as did his friends, so it was _fine. _

All the Avatar needed to do, Zuko assured himself as he settled into a new pile of scrolls up in the bridge (specifically all the ones he could get regarding waterbending and waterbenders), was get to the North Pole. They were almost there and, once there, it would be weeks before the Admiral could do anything with the waterbenders at the height of their power during the season with long nights and short days. Not to mention, according to Zuko’s calculation, they would land as the moon began the journey to becoming full: the time when waterbenders gained even more strength.

After all, only an idiot would invade the _North Pole _on the Full Moon.


	9. Chapter 9

As it turned out, Zhao qualified as an even larger idiot than Zuko assumed.

“We aren’t Fire Navy technically,” Jee grouched as he packed away his helm. “Zhao doesn’t actually have rights to our work.”

Zuko did not say a thing. He couldn’t. Because he knew what he needed to do, now, and what he needed to do land his crew at Boiling Rock in the best of circumstances.

Despite his silence, Jee turned to him and, before Zuko could react, slipped a cord over the teenager’s neck. A compass.

“My father gave me that compass when I left for the Navy,” Jee said. “He died two weeks later, living peacefully in the Colonies, ambushed by earthbenders. It’s all I have of him, so I’ll be wanting that back when we come back.” Jee forced eye contact with Zuko. “When we come back, _we _will capture the Avatar.”

For a moment, Zuko wondered if Jee forgot Zhao’s reasoning for attacking the North Pole. The older man had to leave before Zuko could ask.

Zuko watched as his crew walked away, nearly all saying something along the lines of returning in a week or two. It was customary, of course, to tell someone you would see them again before going to battle: those who worship Agni keep their word, after all, and Agni favors the lives of those with incomplete promises.

That night, Uncle Iroh went into town. Zuko claimed a headache, he needed sleep, more. He watched Uncle walk away, then rushed to his cabin. A bag, packed with only the essentials, laid on his bed, next to his sheathed swords. He grabbed them and, as he left, placed a tightly rolled scroll on his writing desk, labelled to Uncle Iroh.

As he went to leave his cabin, he paused. A part of him ached to look back, at the small space that saw him change so completely from a naïve Fire Nation noble to…whatever he was now.

He didn’t, he knew himself to be soft-hearted. Uncle Iroh already lost Lu Ten and, while Zuko was nowhere near narcissistic enough to believe himself a replacement in anyway, he knew his leaving would hurt the old man.

Zuko hoped his letter would ease the pain, even slightly (he hoped the old man did not notice the lack of mention of a future meeting); that hope allowed Zuko to lower his lifeboat into the dark waters and steer towards the North Pole. A swift current carried him far, the harbor out of sight when his ship exploded, the letter with it.

* * *

It took two days and three nights to make it to the outer reaches of the North Pole. Looking back on it, Zuko can’t begin to fathom what sort of greeting he _expected _from the citizens of the North Pole. Having his lifeboat boarded and himself taken captive only surprised him when it first began. Afterwards, he simply accepted his fate and wondered what on Earth Ursa had done to the Gods to be cursed with such an idiotic son as himself

Then again, he contemplated as one of the Northern Water Tribe warriors began yelling threats of extreme violence, perhaps Ozai did enough for them both.

As they dragged him through the city, keeping him in the watery roads to prevent him from being too close to their extremely fire susceptible buildings, he realized that Ozai as the one being punished by the Gods did not make sense. Not only did he rule as Fire Lord, but Azula acted as the perfect heir. No, it must have been Ursa, or at least her side of the family.

The warriors forced him to his knees on a floor of ice in front of a group of well-dressed, noble looking people (well, men, except for a teenage girl with long white hair). Then again, Zuko contemplated, the likelihood of Azula killing Ozai and taking the crown for herself grew every day. Perhaps it was Ozai after all, given a dud of a son so that he sends the son away, allowing the daughter to grow and rise to kill him.

“You are Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation,” an old man, standing towards the side of the group, said. As he spoke, Zuko caught movement from the periphery of his good eye as the Avatar and the two Southern Water Tribe members appeared. Then the words the man said registered.

“Um,” Zuko coughed, feeling awkward under all the attention being given to him. “Yes. Yes, I am called Zuko. But, uh, I’m not a prince as I have been banished and I’m fairly that I’m, kind of, a traitor, now? I’m not completely sure, but probably.”

“Give me one reason,” a younger man, but one that appeared to have more authority given his centered positioning and the deference those around him gave, said, voice low and threatening, “to not have my benders drown you here and now.”

Um.

“Because he saved my life!” The Avatar yelled, suddenly, rushing to the nobles, his friends on his heels. “And the lives of my friends! If he came here he came for a reason.”

“He’s _Fire Nation_,” the same warrior that had been threatening Zuko earlier protested.

“Technically,” The old man who spoke first interrupted, “He is not, not while he is in banishment.” The old man narrowed his eyes at Zuko.

“Please, Chief Arnook,” the girl said. “I know you don’t trust the Fire Nation, believe me, I don’t either, but he’s saved our lives multiple times now.”

“We cannot have a _firebender _in our city,” one of the other nobles countered.

Zuko then said possibly the most impulsive thing he’d said since he was thirteen years old:

“I’m not a firebender.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You’re not a firebender?” The man Zuko now assumed to be Chief Arnook asked, eyebrow raised.

The confusing man who first addressed Zuko remained silent, though gave Zuko a look that made the teenager squirm just slightly.

“No, sir,” Zuko said. Manners couldn’t _hurt,_ after all. 

“He isn’t, Chief!” The Avatar confirmed, nearly hopping with nervous energy. “When he freed me from Admiral Zhao, he used those swords you took from him!”

“Pakku,” Chief Arnook turned to the confusing man, “You’ve proven yourself knowledgeable enough on the Fire Nation. What do you think?”

The man, Pakku, stayed silent for a moment, before looking Zuko in the eye. “I know that it is incredibly taboo for a firebender to train in a weapon beyond bending. Practically unheard of and extremely discouraged, it would bring shame to the royal family for a bending member to also wield swords.”

Zuko tried not to wince at those words, refused to be thrown back to the memories of his father’s wrath when he first asked to train in weaponry, but did break eye contact with Pakku to stare down at the ice on which he knelt. He barely saw as Chief Arnook nodded, as if Pakku’s words proved anything outside of pointing out another way Zuko failed as a prince of the Fire Nation.

“Why have you come, Zuko?” Chief Arnook asked, causing Zuko to shift his attention back on to the man.

“We don’t have much time. Admiral Zhao is bringing a massive armada of Fire Nation ships to lay siege and capture the Avatar.” Zuko said.

“The Northern Water Tribe has held strong for over a hundred years,” the same _obnoxious _warrior snorted. “We can take ‘em.”

“You don’t understand,” Zuko hissed, eyes narrowing at the warrior, before turning back to Arnook. “I know Zhao, I know how he thinks. The North Pole’s useless to the Fire Nation right now. You’ll fall once the Earth Kingdom does and taking the entire the Earth Kingdom will take comparatively less resources than this single siege will burn through.” Zuko shook his head, “It doesn’t make sense for Zhao to do this, especially as the Avatar will need an earthbending teacher next. There’s something else he wants in this city, something worth the waste in resources. Because of that, this is going to be worse than any battle you’ve experienced so far. Even with the full moon coming.”

The silence that fell was oppressive and solemn.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what he wants,” Zuko continued. “It must be precious and I respect that, but I am asking you to guard it leagues beyond how you do now.”

“If you are to be trusted,” Chief Arnook said after a moment, “then we must prepare for battle now.”

And so it began.

Intellectually, Zuko knew the Northern Water Tribe operated quite differently from the Fire Nation. However, the preparations around him took him aback as he watched from the sidelines, no longer a prisoner, but still wearing icy handcuffs under the careful watch of the Avatar and his waterbender friend (who, confusingly, obviously studied under Pakku which did not match with what Zuko read in a scroll on Traditional Water Tribe Values).

In the Fire Nation, family did not fight side by side, for fear of their family being left heirless; frankly, it was rare to see family members serving in the same ranks of the army, for the same fear. A family was nothing without progeny. Yet Chief Arnook paired brothers, sons and fathers, sending them to their positions with words about family making one fight harder.

In the Fire Nation, the best way to victory meant burning straight through the enemy: attack them before they can attack you. Somewhere in him, Zuko assumed the Water Tribe would respond to the news by wanting to ambush the fleet on their way to the city. They chose to wait and send a spy by which to take out Admiral Zhao.

In the Fire Nation, you trust your own best, brightest, and closest to watch after those you hold dear, like children. Chief Arnook chose the Southern boy he called Sokka (not that Zuko didn’t respect the kid, but _he was a kid_ and did the Chief really know him well enough _to trust him with his own_?).

The only battle strategy Zuko ended up understanding came at the end, when Chief Arnook approached the Avatar and the Southern girl.

“Aang, Katara,” the Chief addressed, then, almost an afterthought, “and Zuko, as you two are still to keep an eye on him. You will be guarding what Zuko believes the Fire Nation want.” Chief Arnook gestured to where his daughter, Yue, and Sokka stood, “Yue can lead you there. And I want her to stay with you all as well. Hopefully, you all will make it through this siege without seeing battle.”

“But I can help!” Aang protested.

“So can I!” Katara said, “I’ve been training under Master Pakku, I’m a great combative waterbender!”

“Yes, you are,” Pakku agreed. “Which is why I suggested you both protect what needs protecting. If you fail at your task, then all will be lost.”

“I only hope you will not see battle for it means it has gone completely against our favor if they make it to your position,” Chief Arnook remedied. “Now, please, follow Yue.”

And through the frozen city they followed Yue. It wasn’t until they finally left the sight of the elders that a flood of relief washed through Zuko. Some part of him refused to belief he actually made it through that interrogation alive.

Even in his relief, though, he felt the tension of nerves as the knowledge of battle loomed before them. The city felt abuzz as well, as families hunkered down in their frozen homes, sending their able to fight. He watched as little girls trailed after their mothers, carrying too much provisions for their small frames, and fathers pressing small knives into the hands of boys too young yet to fight in the actual battle.

In his distraction, he did not notice Aang and Katara slowing, separating just enough that Zuko could no longer here Sokka’s odd way of speaking to Yue. At least, he did not notice until Katara: “Why have you been helping us? You were dead set on capturing Aang at first.”

It startled Zuko at first. He knew he owed them dearly for not bringing up their early encounters to the elders, but he did not expect them to care enough about him to ask these types of questions.

“Um,” was his articulate answer.

“You never were, though, were you?” Aang asked. He never looked as childlike as when he looked up with those big eyes and a big smile, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. “The way you fought us out of where Zhao was keeping me – you could’ve captured me _ages _ago if you’d fought us like that! But you didn’t.”

“Capturing you,” Zuko began slowly, fighting for his words, unsure how to explain his dilemma, his juxtapositions, his confusing dance between honor and dishonor. “Capturing you was my mission. If I captured you, I could go home – my crew and my uncle could go home. I needed to make it at least look like I wanted to, but, no, I never really had any interest in capturing you.”

They continued walking. Even Aang did not seem to know how to respond to Zuko’s explanation.

“You returned my mother’s necklace,” Katara broke the silence.

“I tried fixing the clasp,” Zuko did not know how else to respond. “It, uh…It didn’t hold up, that’s why I had to replace it. I’m sorry ‘bout that…”

He’d been quite frustrated when he couldn’t make the old clasp be a clasp and, eventually, the old material flaked bit by bit until no more could possibly be salvaged. He did not replace it with a Fire Nation style clasp, though, but an Earth Nation one, hoping to avoid offense that way.

“No, it’s fine!” Katara said, hand flying to the back of her neck. “I’d been meaning to replace it myself, but you actually did a good job.”

“Thank you,” Zuko nodded. 

The air seemed marginally calmer, talking about fixing jewelry and the like.

“Where’d you learn to do stuff like that?” Katara asked as they continued walking after the Princess and the Walking Embarrassment (they got close enough that Zuko could hear what Sokka was saying and it dawned on him the _child _was trying to _flirt _with a _Princess _older than _Zuko_).

“…I have a younger sister.”

No need to inform the water bender that it wasn’t _her _jewelry he was fixing, but that of any of her playmates whose noble parents sent them to the palace in their finest which Azula loved to destroy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please leave a comment below!


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